


Short Tumblr fics

by JustAnotherWriter (N1ghtshade)



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/pseuds/JustAnotherWriter
Summary: Short fics I originally posted on Tumblr. Some are for the MacGyver Appreciation Fortnight challenge on there, others are completely random.





	1. Secrets (Samantha Cage)

_For the #MacGyverAppreciationFortnight day **Character** , so…_

_I chose Cage to write about because her character is one I wish we would have learned more about. We were introduced to some interesting information (like Murdoc saying she wasn’t using her real name) and then there was never any real explanation or follow-up to that. And I wanted to explore her character a little and think of what her reasons might be for keeping that secret._

**She finds it easier than she likes to lie to them.**

Her entire life has been built on a series of increasingly complex falsehoods. Her parents always told her lying makes everything harder. She never believed that. It was so much easier to tell them she hurt her hands falling off a swing, not from getting into a fight with three bullies after school. It was easier to tell teachers she had no idea who could have been climbing the drainpipe to the roof, but it couldn’t have been her, because she’d been eating lunch. It was easier to tell people she didn’t really feel like spending time with that she had to go home and take care of her baby cousin.

Eventually, lies became simpler to her than the truth. Some people say it’s hard to keep track of what you tell who, that lies only make things more complicated, but that’s not how she’s seen it. She learned early that if you tell people what they want to hear, they’re happy. And that always felt like a better choice than making everyone angry or worried. What people don’t know can’t hurt them.

Her job has always been about lying. Pretending to be someone you’re not, getting close to people only for the information they can give you, never being able to explain exactly what it is you do to family, to anyone you date, to any friend who isn’t someone you’ve met through the job, and often even to them as well. She was already good at it when she started, and she’s only gotten better. She’s good at what she does because it almost feels natural.

Maybe it’s why she’s so good at spotting everyone else’s lies. She knows all the tricks, all the overcomplicated details inexperienced liars concoct. She knows the absolute rigidity with which someone will stick to a lie even as it’s breaking down around them.

But for the first time in a long time, she wishes she hadn’t lied. Because sitting around the fire with this new team, who feel more like family, she can feel the ways the lies push her away from them.

She’s always been comfortable with the fact that not everyone will know everything about her. She likes it that way.

But she sits around the fire and hears these people tell each other stories from their past, even stories from each other’s pasts, and she feels a bit guilty that they don’t even know her real name.

But the other thing she knows about lying is that once you’re in, you can’t go back. No matter how hard you have to work, no matter how complicated a web of stories you need to concoct, once you begin the lie, you can’t end it. But still, lies are easier than the truth.

Because as much as the lies make her feel like she’s sitting on the fringes, not really a part of this little family, the truth would make them push her away entirely. So she sits and laughs and talks and feels a million miles away, because they’re happy. So she’s happy. And the lies keep adding up.


	2. Alone (added scene to 2.15)

Jack refuses to leave Mac’s side the entire time they wait for an ambulance. He’s tied Murdoc up in the corner of the building, with a strip of tape over his mouth because the man wouldn’t stop making horribly brutal comments and smiling whenever Mac involuntarily whimpered from the pain.

He’s carefully avoiding looking at Helman’s body. Murdoc was right. If he wanted Mac dead, he’d be dead. He didn’t miss by accident. But that doesn’t mean he’s any more comfortable with this, because it means Murdoc wanted him alive for something.

He doesn’t want to think about how much this reminds him of Como, of sitting on the beach trying to force Mac to keep breathing, trying to will his heart to keep beating long enough for evac.

This time, thankfully, Mac’s not as badly wounded. The bullet hit higher, and it missed his lung entirely. But it shattered his collarbone, and the kid’s in a world of pain. He’s shivering, too, probably going into shock, and the cold concrete floor isn’t helping. Jack’s trying to keep Mac as much off the ground as he can, but it’s hard when the kid starts gasping and cringing every time Jack tries to move him so much as an inch.

“This is the last time I agree that splitting up is a good plan, man.” Jack’s got to keep talking, got to keep Mac awake. “It was awful in the Bermuda triangle, and it was even worse this time. If you’d have gotten yourself killed with your crazy idea, what would I have done?”

Sometimes Jack feels bad about saddling the kid with that thought. Heaven forbid Mac have something more to feel guilty about. But Jack knows, in his bones, that if anything were to happen to Mac, it would destroy him.

He told him that the first time they ran into this sick creep. But he feels like he has to say it again now. “I don’t do good on my own, Mac.” The man he is now doesn’t like who he was before he met the hamburger name bomb nerd in the Sandbox. He doesn’t like the memories of the guy who picked fights for fun, broke a guy’s nose for nothing, got into such a bad fight with his father he didn’t speak to the guy for a year.

“I promise, Jack, I’m not going anywhere.” Mac whispers. His cold fingers twist around Jack’s blood-slick ones, and despite the fear, the cold, the madman in the corner, and the body on the floor, Jack knows he’s right where he needs to be. 


	3. Something Borrowed

_One of my favorite team as family headcanons in this fandom is that Mac wears Jack’s t-shirts, hoodies, etc., and it got me thinking…who else would borrow whose things?_

**Riley-Mac’s plaid shirts**

It happens at one of the team bonfires when she gets chilly. There’s a wind blowing in off the water and even with the blaze in front of her, her arms are getting goosebumps. Riley wishes she’d worn something more substantial than a tank top.

Mac must have noticed her rubbing her arms, because he gets up and when he comes back he’s carrying one of his long-sleeved flannel shirts. He tosses it to her with a smile.

Riley pulls the shirt on; it’s far too big for her, the shoulders too broad and the sleeves too long. But it’s warm and soft, and she smiles, running her fingers over the sleeves. _Of course anything Mac has would be just like him. Kind and safe and comfortable._

**Bozer-Jack’s hat**

Bozer loves undercover operations. It’s the best chance to use the acting skills he’d put on the backburner when he joined Phoenix. He still dreams of making his blockbuster movie; he’d seen some prime locations for shooting an alien invasion film when they were on that mission in Peru.

His current cover is Jeremiah Cooper, a Texan with a penchant for fast cars, fast horses, and making a fast buck by smuggling drugs over the border courtesy of his cattle shipments. Bozer has the boots, the mustache, and the nose. He just needs the hat.

He’d said as much to Matty, and a couple hours later, he’s putting the finishing touches on a new mask when Jack walks in with an authentic, battered, sweat-stained Stetson.

“You get so much as a smudge on Pops’s hat, and I will hunt you down,” Jack says, handing it over. “And if there’s a bullet hole in it, you better pray it went through your skull too.”

“Gotcha.” Boze takes the hat carefully and sets it on Sparky’s head. _As if I needed another thing to worry about on this mission._

Fortunately, Bozer and the hat return none the worse for wear.

**Jack-Bozer’s phone**

“But Mac broke mine for his little thingamajig!” Jack says, holding out his hand. “Come on, man.”

“Just tell me who you need to call, Jack.”

“No, Boze, it has to be me. The guy’s more nervous than a green colt in a snake pen. He’ll run if he hears anyone but me on the other end.” Jack sighs. “I’m not gonna touch anything but the keypad, I promise.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Bozer mutters. “Mac doesn’t know I brought my phone. The last time he found out, he took it apart to make a taser and I lost my high score on Slither.” But he sighs and hands it over anyway. “Just make it quick.”

Jack does, but not quick enough. Mac wants to know how their contact found out they were on their way, and eventually Bozer’s phone, or part of it, becomes the trigger for a makeshift bomb. Bozer doesn’t talk to Mac or Jack on the entire exfil flight.

**Matty-Riley’s hair ties**

Matty thinks she might be about to tear her hair out, literally. Mac and Jack are on the ground in Bolivia, they lost their comms when they had to make a hasty getaway via waterfall, and the last she’d heard, both of them had minor gunshot wounds. She doesn’t think too long about what those two are likely to classify as minor.

She tightens her ponytail for the fifteenth time, and the overstressed elastic snaps. Matty feels like snapping too. _I need to get those boys home. And I can’t do that if exfil can’t find them._

She picks up the snapped tie and flings it in the general direction of the trash can. “ _Someone_ , get me _something_ actionable, yesterday, people!”

She feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. It’s Riley, and she’s holding something in her hand. A hair tie. Her own usual messy bun is all straggling in long curls around her face. Matty takes the elastic and pulls her hair back. Somehow, that small action makes her feel a bit calmer, a bit more in control.

“We’re going to find them, Matty,” Riley says softly.

And then her computer pings, and Matty says, “Get it on the screen! Now!” Riley rushes to her laptop, and sure enough it seems Mac’s managed to turn whatever junk he’s come across into a makeshift beacon. “Get those coordinates to exfil.” Matty sighs, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. _They’re coming home._

**Mac-Bozer’s shoelaces**

He’s running from Donnie Sandoz. Again. Except this time, for the first time, Mac’s not alone. Wilt Bozer’s right beside him, and for all the the older boy broke Donnie’s nose, he seems pretty scared.

They just need to get to the bus garage. Pete, the bus mechanic who doubles as school maintenance man, likes Mac, and after Mac helped him fix a busted drinking fountain with the gum wrappers and tape from his bookbag, the guy’s had a soft spot for him. He’ll help them hide.

There’s a small gap between the corner of the building and a dumpster. Mac and Bozer dart through, and then Mac stops and looks at the edge of the dumpster and the bike rack beside the wall.

“Wilt? Do you trust me?” He asks, hoping the pleading puppy eyes that work on Grandpa still work when one side of his face is rapidly swelling and blackening.

“Yeah, sure, why?”

“I need your shoelaces.”

“But these are my Jordans. They’re still new!”

“If we want to get away I need them!”

Finally, Wilt hands over the shoelaces. Mac ties them into a tripwire, and then they run, just as Donnie and his goons come around the corner.

It works perfectly, and the boys collapse in a chaotic, angry pile, giving Mac and Wilt enough time to make it to the bus shed. When they’re safely stowed away behind Pete’s locker, Mac feels a tap on his shoulder.

“I cannot believe you stopped those guys with my shoelaces. So worth it. By the way, I’d rather go by Bozer.”

“Cool. I’m Mac.”


	4. Saved by the Bell

**They have the Venezuelan doctor-turned-political-activist, and so far everything’s gone exactly according to plan.**

And by “according to plan” Riley means that about four things have caught fire, one has blown up, Jack stole a donkey from a local market, her computer’s hard drive is the only piece of her rig she has left, and their plan for making it to exfil without getting killed by the assassin sent to take out the good doctor is hazy. Hazy as in nonexistent.

They’re running through a crowd in town, hoping to lose the guy who’s already shot the tires out of their car and would have killed Jack if he hadn’t been wearing a bulletproof vest. It’s hot, and humid, and Riley’s pretty sure she’s seriously dehydrated because the colorful market booths kind of look like they’re starting to sway back and forth.

Suddenly Mac veers off course and leads them toward a massive church on the main square.

Jack calls over the crowd noise. “Hey Mac, you know, I’m all for callin’ on some help from the Big Man, but unless he’s gonna strike our dude with lightning or something from in there, I think we’re safer out here in a crowd?”

“I have a plan!” Mac shouts back.

And then they’re inside, and Riley is relieved if for no other reason than that the adobe walls have kept the sanctuary cool. There are a few people inside, lighting candles or entering confessionals. She wonders if the plan is to hide in there. But Mac’s heading for a staircase leading up.

“Is the plan to find, the highest, most visible location and yell, “Shoot me?” Jack whispers. “Because that’s what this is gonna be.”

“Actually yeah, Jack, it kind of is.” Mac pulls the doctor aside. “I’m going to get you out of here safely, but you have to trust me, okay?” The man nods. “Jack, I need your vest,” Mac says. Jack sighs and hands it over, and Mac gives it to the doctor.

“We’re going to take you up there, make it look like that’s where we’re trying to get an extraction from. When he shoots, whether he hits or misses, you fall, and with any luck he’ll show up to confirm the kill.”

They climb the circular staircase that winds around a hollow center with a thick, fraying rope swinging down to the floor below. When Mac and the doctor step out above, Riley and Jack are right behind them. Until Riley hears the doctor shout, sees a dark shape on the other side of the tower turn in surprise, and realizes their guy beat them here and took the high ground first. He must have been scanning the crowd for his targets.

Everything after that is a blur. Mac shoves the doctor back toward Riley and Jack as a bullet pings off the heavy metal bell. Riley ducks under the edge of the staircase opening, trying to avoid any ricocheting shots. She feels Jack shove past her, and then sees Mac fling himself sideways, into the opening below the bell. The one that goes about three stories down to stone floors.

Suddenly, there’s a deep, throbbing clang, and Riley cringes and covers her ears as the bell swings out wildly, crashing into the assassin and sending him over the side of the tower. Riley barely hears him hit the roof tiles underneath over the continued ringing of the massive bell.

Eventually the sound dies out, and Riley uncovers her ears and pokes her head back up. The doctor is sitting unharmed, except for a rapidly swelling knot on his head, with his back to the wall. Jack’s leaning over the edge, looking down presumably at the fallen assassin. And Mac…is hanging onto the bell rope, clinging to it in what seems to be sheer panic at this point.  

“J-jack, c-can you pull me up?” he shouts, much too loud, but Riley’s pretty sure he’s still partially deafened from all the ringing. “I don’t kn-know how much longer I c-can hold on.”

“Sure thing bud!” Jack yells back, just as loudly. “Man, that was cool. Saved by the bell!’ Jack sounds a bit hysterical.

“Y-you know how I feel about y-your puns,” Mac says with a forced, shaky laugh.

“Just hang tight, man, we’ll get you back before you get to the end of your rope.”

Mac sighs. Jack and Riley grab the rope and begin hauling it up. Jack’s chuckling quietly the whole time. “Saved by the bell, man. Only you could make it literal.”


	5. I O U

_I really wish the show had gone back to what they started at the end of 1.07 when El Noche put a bounty on Mac. I really wanted him to come up again in the series, and so far it hasn’t. So I did it. And because I’m absolutely incapable, apparently, of writing something that isn’t painful, this one hurts… (post 2.15 for one detail)._

**It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend.** Hit up the old Dalton ranch, kick back on the porch with a couple of beers and Pops’s guitar, and listen to Mac complain about how badly Jack sang “The Streets of Laredo”.

But that means they’re going to need to pick up some supplies, and the closest town with anything resembling a grocery store is a dusty little place called Skellytown, or as Jack used to say as a kid “Skeleton”.

Later, he thinks he should have recognized the name as a bad omen.

He’s opened up the car door and is setting a six-pack on the floor, talking over the seat backs to Mac, who’s getting in on the other side, when he hears the shot. Mac gasps, a short, shocked sound, and Jack watches him drop to the pavement. He can’t see where the kid’s been hit, but there’s blood on the car door where his hand brushed it.

Jack’s first instinct is to rush to Mac, but there’s still a shooter somewhere and Jack needs to end him before he tries to finish Mac off. Because he’s not going down that easy. He’s not. _He survived Como, this is nothing, right?_

Jack peeks over the top of the car and sees it, a faint glint from the window of an abandoned house down the street. He takes careful aim and fires. He hears something from inside, and as he rushes around the car, he glances at Mac, who’s huddled as far behind the door as he can get for protection, hands pressed against his stomach and blood dripping from between his fingers onto the dusty ground.

Jack’s heart is screaming at him to take care of the kid, because Mac is _hurt_ and _scared_ , but if Jack doesn’t make sure he finished the job with their shooter up there, the kid will be _dead_.

He finds his target taken out by a messy but effective headshot. Jack’s always been good at neutralizing a target fast. In the man’s pockets, on a hasty check, he finds a phone, surprisingly unlocked. On it there’s nothing but a picture of Mac and a string of text messages from a number he guesses is a burner, but the message is clear. If this guy succeeded in taking down Mac, the two million dollars he owed El Noche, that guy Mac broke out of prison last year, would be forgiven.

 _Damn. I was afraid that mission would come back to bite us._ Mac had said the man put a bounty on his head, but when his whole cartel went down, they’d assumed none of El Noche’s “friends” were that loyal. It seems by friends he meant “people who owe me favors”. And he was collecting.

Jack doesn’t know what more they can do to a man who’s already doing life in a supermax, but he wants to put a bullet in El Noche’s skull himself. Damn that man. Damn that mission. Jack might hate Murdoc but at least the guy’s extent of injuring Mac has been knocking him out, drugging him, and shooting him in the shoulder. So far. Even their resident creep (who Jack likes to call their nemesis despite Matty’s disapproval) hasn’t come this close to killing his kid. And El Noche’s tried not once but twice now.

When they get home, if Mac makes it through this, _and he will, he’s strong, this isn’t going to kill him, Cage got shot in the gut three times and she’s still kicking_ , Jack is going to do everything he can to make sure no more of El Noche’s connections are having favors called in. And if Mac dies, _but he won’t_ , there’s no power on earth that can stop Jack from going back into that supermax and hunting the man down and snapping his neck himself.

_At least Murdoc’s showing his face, giving us a chance at outmaneuvering him. This monster’s coming after Mac from inside his cell. He knows he’s safe, that we can’t touch him. And he’s getting his revenge._

Jack rushes back to Mac, who’s now surrounded by concerned bystanders. One of them shouts that they’ve called an ambulance. Jack ignores it all and kneels beside Mac, who’s now lying on his back in the dirt, back arched, mouth open in a silent scream of pain. He tries not to panic when he sees all the blood coating the kid’s yellow t-shirt.

“Mac!” He yanks off his own shirt and presses it to the kid’s wound. Mac’s silent scream turns into a choked whimper of pain, then a sob. “Mac, hang on. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Mac reaches out one bloodsoaked hand and grips Jack’s. “J-jack…”

“No, don’t talk. Just hold still. You’ll be okay.” Jack feels tears dripping down his cheeks. “Just hold on.” He keeps pressure on the wound, even as Mac’s body spasms and goes still, even as a dusty ambulance screeches to a halt, even as they pile in and drive hell-bent for Amarillo.

When the trauma team forcibly push Jack outside the OR, he calls Matty. Riley was able to trace the would-be killer’s phone to the prison’s location, and guards found El Noche with a smuggled-in burner, awaiting confirmation that his hit was carried out. He’s now in solitary for the foreseeable future, and he’s being transferred to another prison in North Dakota. _Hope you enjoy the winters, you bastard._

Mac wakes up in Amarillo’s Northwest Texas Hospital fifteen hours and two surgeries later. And Jack’s sitting beside his bed. The moment Mac’s tired, pain-clouded eyes open, he’s glancing all around the room until his gaze rests on Jack. One hand slips weakly across the sheet and into Jack’s, and he squeezes it gently. _We’re gonna be okay._


	6. Paperclip (sequel to IOU)

They’re sitting on the porch of the Dalton family ranch, Jack tuning his guitar and Mac flinching at how off-key the strings are, _It’s not my fault it goes outta tune fast in this drafty old farmhouse_ , when it happens.

A silvery-grey horse, part of the new cutting string Jack watched be brought in from an auction two days ago, gallops past, hooves stirring the reddish dust into clouds.

The live-in farmhand, Luis, runs past, shouting a string of Spanish curses at the animal. He unties the horse hitched to the barn railing and leaps on.

Jack gets up to go help, _that bronco ain’t gonna get too far, not with the fences by the stock pens,_ and beside him he feels Mac doing the same.

“No, no no, man, you’re sittin’ right here. I just watched you get shot in the middle of a damn street. I am not lettin’ you get run over by a thousand pounds of _loco_ mustang. Or havin’ you rip your stitches open again, or get God knows what grime in them.”

Mac sighs and sits back. “It would still go a lot faster if you’d let me help.”

“I don’t doubt it, but this old man’s been wranglin’ since before you were born.” Jack points at his chest.

His own horse is halter-tied to the barn, cooling off after the ride this morning, and Jack jumps on bareback. Running their escaped horse down takes him and Luis longer than he thought, and he’d regret not asking for Mac’s help if the kid wasn’t still recuperating from what El Noche’s goon did to him. _I’m gonna be hurtin’ for a month o’ sundays._

When he and Luis manage to run the lathered, dusty horse back into its corral, Luis leans on the gate and examines the latch. It’s the same one they use all ove the ranch, a sliding bolt that should be easy for people to work, nearly impossible for horses. The tab that slides the bolt is covered in slobber.

“He’s a real escape artist.” Jack turns to see Mac hobbling off the porch to them, favoring his left leg to avoid pulling on his healing injury. He’s holding something in his hand, small and silver.

It’s a paperclip, bent into several small ridges. Almost like a spring.

Mac wedges the paperclip into the bolt, shoving the ends together and then releasing them so they spring out and hold the bolt in the closed position. He lifts the tab and shoves at it experimentally. It doesn’t move. “I don’t think he’ll be able to slip that.”

“I could use a guy like you full-time,” Luis chuckles. “Any chance you can make the windmill pump stop leaking?”

“Sure,” Mac says without thinking, and Jack glares at him. “Maybe. We’ll see.” He looks pleadingly at Jack and _damn if those puppy eyes can’t get him what he wants way too easy._

“Okay, man, go on, I know you’re goin’ stir crazy since you fixed the faucet,  that busted window, and the table leg caster.” There’s nothing else in the house Mac can legitimately repair, and Jack’s honestly begun to have fears for the safety of the toaster.

Mac limps off with Luis and Jack goes back to tuning his guitar and chuckling at the resourcefulness of disaster-prone geniuses.

And he can’t help but grin when he sees the new wooden sign hanging above the troublemaking grulla gelding’s stall the next morning.

**“Paperclip”**


	7. Lost and Found (Missing reunion scene 2.04)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this you should also check out just_another_outcast's "Safe and Sound" episode tag to 2.04!

**Riley thought she’d seen the craziest driving Jack was capable of when they were chasing those smugglers in Kandahar. She was wrong.**

Jack is taking corners at speeds that lift the GTO’s entire left side off the pavement, running any red light that isn’t likely to get them killed, and cursing LA’s traffic more than ever.

“Come on, you idiot! This isn’t Mulholland Drive, you don’t have to crawl around every corner!” Jack’s shouting at the small red Ford Fusion in front of him. He can’t pass in this snarl of traffic, and his hands are clenched so tightly on the steering wheel that his knuckles are beyond white. They’re almost blue.

“Jack, we’ll get there. He’ll be fine. Please don’t give yourself a heart attack.” But her words are half-hearted, because the only thing stopping her from cursing that driver is the fact that it won’t do any good and she needs to focus all her attention on trying to find Murdoc.

Riley’s as anxious to see Mac again as Jack is. When Mac called them from a bystander’s phone, she’d heard the tremor in his voice, and it had almost physically hurt when, just before hanging up, he whispered “Please, Jack, I need you. Please help me.”

Mac doesn’t ask for help. Not like that. He never pleads with anyone. Usually he’s the one finding a way to save them all, while Riley’s watching and internally asking _him_ for help. If he sounds like that, something’s terribly wrong.

Her mind is spinning through all the possible horror they could find at the end of this. Mac was obviously able to walk at least far enough to find help, so it can’t be too bad, right? The person who took the phone from him said he crawled out of a manhole and collapsed on the side of the road. They didn’t know if he was bleeding or not, they sounded on the verge of a panic attack themselves.

Jack sees an opening and whips around the slow car, careening through yet another red light to the blaring of at least four horns.

“I know Mac’s going to be glad to see us but can we not die before we get there?” She’s either going to make a joke or scream, and she goes for the former.

“You know where he is because of the 911 call.”

“And because I triangulated his cell call to double check, yeah.” Riley continues typing. _How am I ever going to track Murdoc down?_

“If we can find him, so can that…that maniac.” Jack mutters. “He could be listening to police scanners, he could be so much closer, he could snatch Mac away right from under us again if we don’t get there first.”

And then another horrible thought hits Riley. What if this whole thing is a trap? What if Murdoc let Mac go so he could draw in the rest of the team?

Or what if this is the end of his game? What if Murdoc poisoned Mac, and then dumped him for his team to find, only so they could watch him die slowly, in agony? _No, no, he’s going to be okay. Don’t let yourself think that way. Mac is smart and resourceful. He escaped, just like he always does._

But she can’t get that whispered, desperate plea out of her head. _Help me_. Mac is frightened and alone, probably hurting, probably terrified Murdoc will find him before his friends do. The thought makes her want to ask Jack to go faster, but he’s already gunning the car as much as is humanly possible.

And then the moving arrow on her laptop reaches the single red dot, and Jack screeches the car into the worst parallel parking job Riley’s ever seen, leaps out, and runs toward the knot of people clustered around something on the sidewalk.

If she didn’t know what was happening, Riley would think it’s a stray dog hit by a car. Mac’s curled up tightly, shaking, and flinching when anyone reaches toward him. Riley can hear sirens closing in. _We beat the ambulance._

Jack’s already bending over next to Mac, and as soon as Mac sees him, he uncurls and flings himself at Jack, wrapping his arms around him and clinging tightly.

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s okay. I got you.” Jack’s running his fingers through Mac’s hair, and rocking slightly back and forth. “You’re gonna be okay.” When the ambulance pulls up and the EMTs leap out, Jack waves them off.

“You’re going to have to let go of your brother and let us help, sir.” A middle-aged woman with a kindly face and long braid tells Jack, trying to remove his hands from Mac’s back. When she touches Mac’s arm, he whimpers and curls tighter into Jack.

Riley steps in, because Jack looks ready to punch someone and Mac looks ready to cry. “He’s autistic. His brother’s the only one who can get him to calm down when he’s this panicked.” She kneels beside them. “He wanders off and gets in trouble like this a lot. We’ll take him home and he’ll be fine.” The woman looks very unconvinced.

“I’d feel a lot better about this if you’d at least let us check him over.” Riley’s sure the EMT thinks they’re trying to kidnap Mac or hold him against his will, or something equally awful. And after all, it’s not really normal for people, even people who tend to wander off, to find their way into the city sewer system.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She crouches next to Mac and Jack, and tries to catch Mac’s eyes. “Listen, these people just want to make sure you’re okay and then we can take you home, sound good?” He shudders. “I promise we’re not going to leave you alone with them if you don’t want us to. We’ll be right here. You’ll be fine.”

Riley and Jack each hold one of Mac’s hands while the EMTs check him. They tell Jack his “brother” has some kind of track marks on his arm and that they’re fairly certain he’s on some sort of drug. Jack sighs and mutters that this has been happening for years, and the kid likes to experiment. He gives Mac the tiniest of tiny winks when he says that, and Riley smiles a little. _Yes, he does, just not with drugs._

The EMTs seem less than satisfied when Riley and Jack bundle Mac into the car, but they’re smart enough not to argue with Jack’s protective papa bear glare. Mac refused to go with them to the hospital, and when the EMTs insisted on asking him in private, just in case he was being forced or coerced into saying that, Jack and Riley had reluctantly agreed, only to be called back minutes later because Mac started having a panic attack right there in the back of the ambulance and kept asking for Jack. They haven’t let go of each other since.

Jack releases one hand from Mac’s long enough to fumble his car keys out of his pocket. “Riley, take us back to Phoenix.” She’s never been allowed to drive Jack’s car before. She’d be thrilled if it wasn’t for the situation that’s made it necessary. _If it meant Mac was never captured and tortured, I’d be fine with never getting behind the wheel of Jack’s baby my whole life._ She drives much more carefully than Jack did on the way home, partly because she thinks Jack knows too many ways to hide a body if she scratches or dents the GTO, but also because she keeps looking in the rearview, not at the traffic but at the way Mac and Jack are tangled together in the back seat. Jack’s got his arms around Mac, and Mac’s head is resting on his shoulder, and the two of them are oblivious to the rest of the world.


	8. Coffeemaker+Fire

**“First, a coffeemaker mysteriously catches fire…” (Riley, about Mac avoiding his eval with Matty in 1.14)**

They’re all sitting around the fire, everyone but Bozer on their second beer, and Matty decides it’s time. It’s her turn to pick a victim for Truth or Dare, and she knows they all expect it to be Jack. Not only does she usually delight in forcing him to admit the more embarrassing portions of past missions, but the last time it was his turn, he had dared her to order them a pizza and give her name for it as “the incredible live Lilliputian lady”. _His short jokes are really going to have to get better. That’s the third time he’s used that reference._

Instead, she glances at Mac. “Truth or Dare, Mac?”

He looks startled, caught off guard, he was expecting her to be after Jack as well. “Uh..truth I guess?”

“Okay, what actually happened to the break room coffeemaker?” She’s had to order a new one, the coffeemaker in question had nearly melted into itself by the time someone found a fire extinguisher.

Mac looks like a puppy caught chewing up a pillow. “I…might have…um…rewired the heating element…just a little.”

“Just a little? The lab tech who turned it on said it was engulfed in blue flames the minute he switched it on.” Mac looks even guiltier.

Matty glances at him. _I know you were worried about how I was going to react to you. I know you were afraid I was going to be the next person to say you weren’t worth keeping around. I know you didn’t want to be thrown out or abandoned again._ But she can’t say any of that. Not here, not now.

So she settles for “Don’t let it happen again, you hear me?” And then smiles just a little. “You know the replacement cost is definitely coming out of your paycheck now?”

Mac groans, and Jack sighs. “Matty, that shouldn’t be fair. Getting information out of someone during truth or dare shouldn’t count.”

“Well, you can say that when you make the rules,” Matty raises an eyebrow at them. “For now, you’re playing with mine.” She shakes her head, still remembering the frightened tech bursting in on her, screaming about fire. _Only you, Mac. Only you._


	9. Fire+Ice (added scene to 2.21)

**“We’re going to run out of air in here,”** Riley whispers, shivering as the cold air works its way through her jeans and her leather jacket.

“Actually, the room space gives us sufficient oxygen for…” Mac pauses, then glances around. “Well, factoring in the amount of displacement from the boxes and storage shelves, and the size of the room, we have…at least four hours before we’re in real trouble, if we’re smart and don’t use it all up panicking. I’m more worried about explaining this to the cops when they show up, and I doubt it’s going to take them that long.” He pulls out his phone. “Thankfully, we still do get cell service in here, so I’m gonna call Matty and see what she can do about that.”

“Uh, I thought we wanted to get out of here? Don’t we kind of want the rescue crew to come?”

“Not if they’re in our bad guys’ pocket. That data you pulled, didn’t you find some payments to the Chief of Police?”

“Yeah…” Riley feels the realization kick in. Or maybe it’s just approaching hypothermia. “Walters bought the cops in this town. And they know we broke into his offices.”

“If they find us in here, we’re dead.” Mac sighs. And then the lights flicker and go out. Fire must have reached the freezer’s wiring.

Riley opens her laptop and Mac switches on his phone’s flashlight. The dim blue glow is better than nothing. Mac calls Matty, and after he explains the situation Riley can hear the director sigh.

“I’ll have exfil en route, and we’ll do something about those cops. Just hang on, we’ll get you two out of there just fine.”

Riley shivers, and she can’t seem to stop. She sets her rig on a shelf before she drops it and breaks it. “Hey Mac, how long till we get hypothermia in here?”

“Probably about half an hour, hour, depends on the freezer temp.” He holds up the phone flashlight to the thermometer. “Probably more like 35, 40, to be precise. These guys were really serious about food safety.” Riley notices the phone light wobbling, and even though Mac’s mostly in shadow she can see that he’s shivering. Probably harder than she is. She’s got a jacket, he’s only got a shirt with the sleeves rolled half up.

“So is there any truth to that ‘huddling for warmth’ thing people always do in those cheesy snowed in movies?” She asks.

“Yeah, that’s actually a decent way to avoid freezing to death, at least for a while.” Mac turns toward her. “I don’t think we’re gonna have to do that, though, because exfil…” He trails off, glancing at the ceiling. There’s an odd sound coming from above them.

“Mac, is that…”

“Water.” They’re both looking up when the a spray of water spills in through a crack above them. Mac pushes Riley to the side, and she stumbles into a shelf, cracking her shin against it so hard she yelps. _Everything hurts more in the cold. I feel like I might shatter._

“What the hell is that?”

Mac joins her, shaking water from his hair and gasping. “Fire suppression system. Building’s so old it’s water-based. Explosion cracked the pipe and water pressure did the rest. And they ran it right above the freezer. When the pipe broke it must’ve fallen and gone through whatever cheap insulation they had up there.” Water’s continuing to spray in, freezing into a puddle on the floor and scattering ice crystals on the shelving.

“When we get out of here, we oughta complain to the management,” Riley grumbles. At least the crooked cops haven’t showed up yet. _Thank goodness for small miracles._

“We need to stay away from the water. If we get wet, we’ll get colder faster.”

Riley scoots backward, as far away from the growing puddle as she can get. “Good plan, Mac, but you’re kinda leaving out the part where you pushed me out of the way and already got soaked.”

“Good p-point.” He leans against her, next to the wall. “Maybe we’ll be using your h-huddle idea after a-all.” Riley slips one arm out of her jacket and puts half of it around Mac’s shoulders. He leans against her, and they sit there watching their shuddering breaths fog the air, and listening to the water spilling in.

When the exfil team arrives fifteen minutes later and pulls the door open, Riley gives them a shaky, slightly blue thumbs-up. Mac’s still awake, and yes he’s rambling on about the physics question Riley asked him five minutes ago, but he’s able to stand when she nudges his arm. _Yeah, we’re okay. We’re good._


	10. Blackmail Material

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was rewatching the episode where Jack’s apartment is broken into, and the cop is concerned about what he has in there. And Jack says the “broadsword” the officer mentions is from a “business trip to Scotland” and I’m going “what the heck they went to Scotland at some point and no one thought that was worth even making into a cold open flashback?” So I wrote about it.

Riley’s beginning to think the second beer was a bad idea. She’s starting to feel a little lightheaded, and she still has to drive home because she is not crashing at Jack’s apartment overnight. It’s like sleeping on your parents’ couch.

 _I need to get a glass of water and just take a few minutes_. She stands up; it’s not her turn in the impromptu Monopoly game that’s started on Jack’s coffee table, and it’s not likely anyone’s going to owe her rent for the single house she’s managed to get on Connecticut Avenue.

Her elbow knocks the shoebox off the table, and it spills to the floor in a pile of photos. She starts picking them up, apologizing rapidly. Then she actually looks at the pile of them in her hand.

Some of them are familiar, the selfies Jack takes as confirmation of securing a target or reaching an objective. Some of them are Jack alone, some are of him with someone Riley remembers rescuing or capturing, and some are of him and Mac, with other people or just together in various locations.

“Why do you print these off, Jack? It’s the twenty-first century, just join the digital age already!”

“Because, Riley, they deserve a place of honor. And I don’t care how much you like your phone and your computer, they just don’t compare to holding an actual photograph.” Jack flips them over and shows her his handwriting, mission, date, country, on the back. “You can’t watch a digital picture get faded and creased from love.”

Riley flips over one that reads, _Operation Thistle, 2012, Scotland_ , in Jack’s messy scrawl. 

“Wait, are you holding a…sword?” Then Riley realizes that’s not even the best part. “Mac…are you…are you wearing…” Mac’s face goes from mildly amused to _oh shit_ in about half a second and he snatches the picture from Riley as she finishes. “…a skirt?”

“Yes, yes he is,” Jack laughs.

“For your information, it’s not a skirt. It’s a kilt. And it’s traditional Scottish Highland clothing,” Mac mutters, holding the picture away from Bozer, who’s grabbing for it energetically.

Riley chokes back another laugh. “You have a selfie with Mac in a kilt, and that sword you’re carrying is currently hanging on the wall over there. There has to be a good story here. So what exactly happened in Scotland?”

…

Mac stumbles after Jack, trying to avoid tripping on the uneven ground and falling flat on his face. “Okay, you were right, this was the worst plan I’ve ever had.”

Jack turns around, waving the weapon he’s just ‘borrowed’. “No, man, it’s awesome! I get to fight these dudes with an actual freakin’ sword! You’re just mad cause you’re stuck wearing a stupid skirt!”

“Kilt, Jack.” At the moment, though, Mac really isn’t sure what the difference is. The one thing he is sure of is that if he falls, Jack’s going to see a lot more than he wants to.

“Well, it’s your own fault for getting your clothes covered in that toxic sludge. And it’s not _my_ fault the closest place we could find to replace them was a reenactment of the Battle of Collard Greens!”

“Culloden, Jack.” Mac sighs. “It was the site of the final defeat of the Jacobite rebellion in 1746…”

Jack cuts him off. “You know what, I don’t care. Save the history lesson for exfil and let’s focus on _us_ not getting killed here, okay?”

They stumble through a shallow river and into a cluster of trees. Behind them, Mac can hear shouts that mean the men chasing them have found their trail again.

“Jack, you need to take the drive.” He holds out the small flash drive they’ve managed to retrieve.

“Why me?” Jack asks. “I’m usually the one who breaks that kinda stuff.”

“Because I don’t have _pockets_.” Mac whines, fully aware he sounds like a petulant teenager. He’s slipped his knife into his shoe, but he’s not willing to take the risk of losing the drive or getting it wet. _It’s official, whoever decided kilts were a good idea was drunk._

“You should have grabbed one of those little purse things that were sitting around,” Jack said.

“I felt bad enough taking what I did. Some of those guys had a lot of their personal stuff in those.” Mac shakes his head. “I’d rather not add a lot of angry Scottish reenactors to the list of people chasing us right now, but then you had to go and steal a freaking sword, so I’m not sure how well that’s gonna go.”

“Yeah, about those guys, you have a plan, right?” Jack asks.

“Sort of. You may not like it…” Mac looks at the sword in Jack’s hand. “On second thought, maybe you will.”

…

Mac rolls his eyes and laughs. “So Jack ended up taking out four guys with a broadsword, which he insisted on keeping as a trophy.”

“One of my proudest moments,” Jack says, grinning.

“But you’d still have been dead if I hadn’t snagged the other two in my snares,” Mac reminds him. “You’d better admit you needed me to save your a…”

“Don’t say it!” Jack cuts him off. “I don’t need any suggestion of that, cause that skirt of yours left pretty much nothing to the imagination a few too many times.”

Riley stifles a chuckle of secondhand embarrassment, and Mac turns even redder.

“Can we just get on with the game?” Mac asks, picking up the dice.

“Yeah, so Jack can kick your butt…” Bozer trails off, eyes widening. “Uh, sorry Jack.”

“Man, now I’m gonna have that in my head again for a week,” Jack groans. He snatches the picture from Mac and hands it back to Riley. “Here, put this thing away.”

Before she slides it back in the box with the other selfies, Riley snaps a picture of it with her phone. _You never know when some blackmail material might come in handy._


	11. Riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small teaser for the next instalment of my X-Men AU story…which is coming at some indeterminate point in the future…

Jack’s more than a little surprised when he recognizes the phone number calling on his burner.

“Steve?” He’s not sure how McGarrett got this number. Only Matty has it. They’ve cut all other communication in case James decides reopening Project X, and the media firestorm that will come with that, is worth it to be able to bring Mac back to the Phoenix as a piece of government property.

“Hi Jack. I heard you’ve got some…interesting problems.”

Jack trusts Steve. With his life. But how the hell could he know…

“Someone’s chasing mutants, and the person they’re looking for is your little Sandbox EOD.”

Jack wobbles, sits down hard on the bench in the park they’re currently using as a campground. _How the hell does Steve know?_

“What…” He can’t get any more words out.

There’s some vaguely annoyed chatter in the background, then a scuffing sound, and a new voice comes over the line. “I’m sorry for the dramatics, he just couldn’t resist.” Jack hears Steve’s partner Danny say apologetically, before it sounds like turns around and yells, “Do you want to give the man a damn heart attack? I told you to break it to him easy!”

“Okay, what the actual hell?” Jack asks.

“Mr. Freaking Navy Seal here is an actual freaking mutant. Which by the way I totally called from the first day I met him.”

“Did not!” Jack hears Steve protest, and there’s another scuffle for the phone. It sounds like Steve wins, because his is the next voice Jack hears.

“I’ve been dark for years. It was part of an experimental program, got shut down right after I got fully changed. And I was told never to reveal it to anyone.” _Not even to me._ Jack feels a bit hurt, but after everything with Oversight, he’s sort of getting used to being the last one in on secrets.

“So, what is it you do exactly?”

Steve laughs. “I’m not a Navy Seal for no reason, Dalton.” Jack can hear the teasing smile in his voice. “I control water.”

Jack sits quietly, letting that sink in. Then he voices his question. “So why’d you call?”

“Because someone found me. I’ve hidden my power well, but when I got home the other day, there was a woman waiting in my house. Called herself Chrysalis. And she asked me if I knew where to find an Angus MacGyver.”

Jack nearly drops the phone. Patty’s out there and looking.

“Whoever she is, she knew about the program. She even used my code name, Riptide.” Steve sighs. “Whatever is going on, Jack, it’s big. And dangerous. Not everyone on that list turned out like me. Quite a few went insane.” Jack hears Danny snicker, and possibly mutter ‘so did you’. “And if any of them agree to help her, you’re in danger. So I know it’s a lot to take in, and a lot of trust to ask for from you, but I’m offering you my help.”

Jack sighs and looks back at Riley and Bozer trying to set up their tent, and Mac starting a fire with the sparks flickering around his fingers. There are four of them, against God knows how many freakish mutants Thornton can recruit, and only Mac has powers. _We’ll get slaughtered if they’re all like Walsh. And they could be even worse._ “We could use all the help we can get.”


	12. Little Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written before I knew for sure who Murdoc was going to kill off

**The eerie whistling sends a chill down Mac’s spine.**

More so than the cold stone he’s lying against. The door opens and a faint light spills in, making the figure in the door stand out in silhouette. “Oh MacGyver,” Murdoc whispers cheerfully, “I think you’re going to like the game I have for us to play.”

Mac tugs at the thick plastic ties around his wrists, but there’s no give. His arms are twisted uncomfortably behind him, starting to ache. He’d guess he’s been here an hour, maybe a little more.

The last thing he remembers was driving Jack home from the memorial. _It wasn’t his fault but he sure as hell blamed himself for not getting there faster._ Jack had had a few too many beers to be trusted to get himself home safely, and Mac wasn’t going to lose someone else this week.

He thought he remembered headlights coming at them, swerving to miss, was there a tree? His head hurts and his right shoulder feels more damaged than the other, so maybe. And after that he remembers nothing until the whistling.

“I doubt I’ll like anything you have planned,” He snaps, ignoring the increasing pounding in his head.

“I’m sorry about your friend. I truly am. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. Nothing against them personally.” Murdoc leans over and crooks a finger under Mac’s chin. “If you’d been where you were supposed to be, it would be you and not them.”

Mac can’t quite deny that he feels like that would have been the better option.

“And sadly, Jack’s in the wrong place too. If he hadn’t gotten himself so sloppy drunk, you’d have been alone in the car, and this would have been easy.”

Mac freezes.

“The rules here are quite simple. If you speak, if you argue, or protest, or threaten me, or if you _scream_ …” He draws the final word out ominously, “then I’ll move on to Jack. See how long he lasts. And when he makes a sound, then it’s back to you.” Murdoc smiles. “Let’s see how far you’ll go to protect each other.”

Without warning, he slashes a knife across Mac’s arm. Mac swallows down a startled yelp and glares at Murdoc. _He’s going to have to kill me. Because I’m not going to let him hurt Jack._


	13. Paybacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was chatting with just_another_outcast and we were talking about how Mac is always taking and breaking Jack’s phone, and how funny it would be if the tables were turned. And then this little fic got in my head and wouldn’t stop bugging me until I wrote it…

“I need something to jam the door. See those wires up there at the top? When we opened it we engaged a triggering mechanism. If it closes it’s going to set off the bomb with us in here.” Mac’s holding it open for now, but he can’t just wait here the entire time. Jack can’t just run off and disarm the bomb himself. And sure as heck isn’t going to stand here and wait while Mac runs headlong into whatever danger is waiting.

“Here, I’ll hold it while you go scrounge some random junk…” Jack trails off when he notices the black rectangle poking out of the back pocket of Mac’s jeans. “Never mind, I think I found something that’ll work.”

Mac laughs. “I’m finally rubbing off on you, Jack?”

“Oh, you’ve got no idea how much.” Jack slips the phone out with the practiced ease of an operative trained to lift IDs and other sensitive items from marks without their notice. And Mac’s too distracted being amused at Jack being the idea guy for once.

Jack shoves the phone into the gap, standing mostly in front of what he’s doing so Mac can’t see it. Mac probably guesses he found some piece of metal or wood or something lying around.

“Okay, you can let go now.” Mac does, and the door shuts with a soft hydraulic _whoosh_ and a satisfying _crunch_. It’s still unlatched, but Mac’s phone is bent neatly around the edge of it, glass shattered and screen flickering.

“Hey, is that my…” Mac trails off, turning to Jack with that kicked-puppy look that’s so unfairly disarming. _Nope, I’m not going to fall for it. After twelve replaced phones and nineteen trips to the genius bar in the past three years, turn about is fair play._

“See how it feels, man?” Jack asks, grinning, although victory doesn’t feel quite so sweet when Mac’s giving him that hurt, betrayed glance.

“Did you absolutely have to use my phone?”

Jack shrugs. “Nope, there’s a perfectly good piece of rebar over there in the corner, if you want to push the door back open we can swap them out.”

“There’s no point, the phone’s wrecked now anyway.” Mac sighs. “Jack, when I take your phone it’s because there are _absolutely no other options left_.”

“That’s not how it feels to me, man. Other people have phones, just nab some random bystander’s. Or take Riley’s, man!”

“I’m not going to steal some stranger’s phone. And Riley needs her phone for what she does.”

“And I don’t?” Jack shakes his head. “At _least_ ask me for it nicely when you’re gonna destroy it next time, okay?”

“Okay.” Mac gives one last, despairing glance at the ruined phone holding open their way of escape. “Clock’s ticking, let’s go find that bomb.”

And when Mac demands Jack hand over his phone to finish the elaborate doohickey he’s created to keep them from going kaboom, Jack doesn’t even argue.


	14. Ink+Skin

“Truth or Dare, Jack,” Riley asks, smiling and spinning the neck of her bottle in her hand. 

“Truth,” Jack says quickly before downing his second glass of milk. _Damn, that hot sauce was worse than the last stuff._  He’s going to regret that tomorrow.

“How many tattoos do you have?” Riley asks, still grinning.

“What?”

“You heard me.” She chuckles. “Come on, you have to tell us. Or is there something you don’t want to share?”

“Nope, got nothing to hide.” Jack rolls up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show the Deltas’ insignia on his shoulder. “Me and all my buddies got this after our last tour together. For every guy we lost we put an initial underneath.” There are three letters there Jack knows by heart. 

_S-Stan Curtis. Real jokester, nice guy from Idaho who was planning on going home to his dad’s ranch. Killed by a sniper in Afghanistan._

_K-Kevin Jameson. Dependable, smart, good tactician. He had three kids, twin girls and a little boy. Killed by a car bomb just outside one of the bases._

_M-Mikael Foley. Quiet, shy, wanted to finish his engineering degree. Suicide after a mission where we blew up a school because of bad intel._

“And a second one.” Jack pulls up the hem of his shirt until the black patch on his ribs is visible. “A raven.”

“A raven? What’s that for?” Bozer asks.

“Because ravens are pretty dang smart, and they can hold grudges for years. Kinda like yours truly,” Jack laughs.

“I’m guessing the story behind this is you got drunk and binge-watched National Geographic specials?” Riley asks. 

“No, I told him about them,” Mac says, more quietly than he normally talks during these games. Jack knows why. “We were pinned down in an op that went bad in Berlin. Exfil was an hour and a half out and I’d taken a bullet when we were running. We were holed up in an old warehouse, hiding from the terrorists hunting us, and I’d lost enough blood by that point I was close to passing out. Jack kept trying to get me to talk about anything, and there were ravens in that warehouse, and I guess I just rambled about them for the entire time we waited for exfil.”

“You did. And you told me ravens are insanely protective of the rest of their families, and if someone hurts any raven in a flock, the other ravens will gang up on the person who hurt one of their own. And they never, ever forget it.” 

The room has gone pretty much silent by this point, everyone looking at the black ink like it’s going to suddenly come alive. _I’ll never forget how close I came to losing you, kid. And trust me, just like back then, anyone who hurts Mac answers to me. And that goes for the rest of my family too._

Jack lets his shirt fall back and smiles. Time to get back to the fun stuff, because this is family time, not work. “Okay, Riley, your turn. Truth or dare?”


End file.
